The world held its breath.
The name Vahran rolled through the soil like a distant roar. Even though none of the new beings knew what it meant, they felt its weight. It was a name that carried heat, pressure, and something like a sleeping flame.
The Eshari slowly stood. Their twilight-colored eyes looked older now—older than the sky above.
"Fate has moved again," they said quietly. "And it will not stop."
The ground trembled once more, smaller this time, like a warning knock from deep inside the earth. The new beings stepped closer together, hands lightly touching for comfort. None of them had ever felt fear before. They didn't fully feel it now—but the shape of it brushed their hearts.
The Eshari turned toward the horizon.
"Long ago," they said, "before this world was reborn, something powerful was sealed away. Something fierce enough to scorch the sky. That name—Vahran—is its echo."
